
Class / c) ^Zf^ O 
Book /i J ^ ^^^ ^ 

()0p>Ti§ht}i^_COyC?y,^ 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



BALLADS 



AND 



OTHER POEMS 



BALLADS 



AND 



OTHER POEMS. 



HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW, 

AUTHOR OF "voices OF THE NIGHT/' 
♦'HYPERION/' &C. 



SECOND EDITION. 



CAMBRIDGE. 
PUBLISHED BY JOHN OWEN. 



M DCCC XLII. 



C..^|/3 









CCf 



hf^ 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year eighteen hundred and 
forty-one, by H. W. Longfellow, in the Clerk's office of the District 
Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



CAMBRIDGE: 

STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY T. G. WELLS, 
PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

Preface vii 

BALLADS. 

The Skeleton in Armour 29 

The Wreck of the Hesperus .... 42 

The Luck of Edenhall 48 

The Elected Kniffht 53 



The Children of the Lord's Supper . . 59 



MISCELLANEOUS. 

The Village Blacksmith 99 

Endymion 103 

The Two Locks of Hair 106 

It is not always May 109 

The Rainy Day Ill 



Tl CONTENTS. 

God's-Acre 113 

To the River Charles 115 

Blind Bartimeus .118 

The Goblet of Life . . . • . .120 

Maidenhood 125 

Excelsior 129 



PREFACE. 



There is one poem in this volume, in ref- 
erence to which a few introductory remarks 
may be useful. It is The Children of the 
Lord^s Supper J from the Swedish of Bishop 
Tegner ; a poem which enjoys no inconsider- 
able reputation in the North of Europe, and 
for its beauty and simplicity merits the atten- 
tion of English readers. It is an Idyl, de- 
scriptive of scenes in a Swedish village; and 
belongs to the same class of poems, as the 
Luise of Voss and the Hermann und Dorothea 
of Gothe. But the Swedish Poet has been 



Vlll PREFACE. 

guided by a surer taste, than his German pre- 
decessors. His tone is pure and elevated; 
and he rarely, if ever, mistakes what is trivial 
for what is simple. 

There is something patriarchal still linger- 
ing about rural life in Sweden, which renders 
it a fit theme for song. Almost primeval sim- 
plicity reigns over that Northern land, — al- 
most primeval solitude and stillness. You 
pass out from the gate of the city, and, as if 
by magic, the scene changes to a wild, wood- 
land landscape. Around you are forests of fir. 
Over head hang the long, fan-like branches, 
trailing with moss, and heavy with red and 
blue cones. Under foot is a carpet of yellow 
leaves ; and the air is warm and balmy. On 
a wooden bridge you cross a little silver 
stream ; and anon come forth into a pleasant 
and sunny land of farms. Wooden fences 



PREFACE. IX 

divide the adjoining fields. Across the road 
are gates, which are opened by troops of chil- 
dren. The peasants take off their hats as you 
pass; you sneeze, and they cry, "God bless 
you." The houses in the villages and small- 
er towns are all built of hewn timber, and for 
the most part painted red. The floors of the 
taverns are strewn with the fragrant tips of 
fir boughs. In many villages there are no 
taverns, and the peasants take turns in receiv- 
ing travellers. The thrifty housewife shows 
you into the best chamber, the walls of which 
are hung round with rude pictures from the 
Bible ; and brings you her heavy silver spoons, 
— an heirloom, — to dip the curdled milk from 
the pan. You have oaten cakes baked some 
months before ; or bread with anise-seed and 
coriander in it, or perhaps a little pine bark. 
Meanwhile the sturdy husband has brought 



PREFACE. 



his horses from the plough, and harnessed 
them to your carriage. Solitary travellers 
come and go in uncouth one-horse chaises. 
Most of them have pipes in their mouths, and 
hanging around their necks in front, a leather 
wallet, in which they carry tobacco, and the 
great bank notes of the country, as large as 
your two hands. You meet, also, groups of 
Dalekarlian peasant women, travelling home- 
ward or town-ward in pursuit of work. They 
walk barefoot, carrying in their hands their 
shoes, which have high heels under the hol- 
low of the foot, and soles of birch bark. 

Frequent, too, are the village churches, 
standing by the road-side, each in its own 
little garden of Gethsemane. In the parish 
register great events are doubtless recorded. 
Some old king was christened or buried in 
that church ; and a little sexton, with a rusty 



PREFACE. XI 

key, shows you the baptismal font, or the 
coffin. In the church-yard are a few flowers, 
and much green grass ; ' and daily the shadow 
of the church spire, with its long tapering fin- 
ger, counts the tombs, representing a dial- 
plate of human life, on which the hours and 
minutes are the graves of men. The stones 
are flat, and large, and low, and perhaps sunk- 
en, like the roofs of old houses. On some 
are armorial bearings ,* on others only the ini- 
tials of the poor tenants, with a date, as on 
the roofs of Dutch cottages. They all sleep 
with their heads to the westward. Each held 
a lighted taper in his hand when he diedj 
and in his coffin were placed his little heart- 
treasures, and a piece of money for his last 
journey. Babes that came lifeless into the 
world were carried in the arms of gray-haired 
old men to the only cradle they ever slept in ; 



Xll PREFACE. 

and in the shroud of the dead mother were 
laid the little garments of the child, that lived 
and died in her bosom. And over this scene 
the village pastor looks from his window in 
the stillness of midnight, and says in his 
heart, ''How quietly they rest, all the de- 
parted ! " 

Near the church-yard gate stands a poor- 
box, fastened to a post by iron bands, and 
secured by a padlock, with a sloping wooden 
roof to keep off the rain. If it be Sunday, 
the peasants sit on the church steps and con 
their psalm-books. Others are coming down 
the road with their beloved pastor, who talks 
to them of holy things from beneath his 
broad-brimmed hat. He speaks of fields and 
harvests, and of the parable of the sower, that 
went forth to sow. He leads them to the 
Good Shepherd, and to the pleasant pastures 



PREFACE. XUl 

of the spirit-land. He is their patriarch, and, 
like Melchizedek, both priest and king, though 
he has no other throne than the church pulpit. 
The women carry psalm-books in their hands, 
wrapped in silk handkerchiefs, and listen de- 
voutly to the good man's words. But the 
young men, like Gallio, care for none of these 
things. They are busy counting the plaits in 
the kirtles of the peasant girls, their number 
being an indication of the wearer's wealth. 
It may end in a wedding. 

I will endeavour to describe a village wed- 
ding in Sweden. It shall be in summer time, 
that there may be flowers, and in a southern 
province, that the bride may be fair. The 
early song of the lark and of chanticleer are 
mingling in the clear morning air, and the 
sun, the heavenly bridegroom with golden 
locks, arises in the east, just as our earthly 



XVI PREFACE. ^ 

this the host replies, '' Yes ; were you seven 
times as many, you should all be welcome ; 
and in token thereof receive this cup." Where- 
upon each herald receives a can of ale ; and 
soon after the whole jovial company comes 
storming into the farmer's yard, and, riding 
round the May -pole, which stands in the cen- 
tre, alights amid a grand salute and flourish of 
music. 

In the hall sits the bride, with a crown up- 
on her head and a tear in her eye, like the 
Virgin Mary in old church paintings. She is 
dressed in a red boddice and kirtle, with loose 
linen sleeves. There is a gilded belt around 
her waist ; and around her neck strings of 
golden beads, and a golden chain. On the 
crown rests a wreath of wild roses, and below 
it another of cypress. Loose over her shoul- 
ders falls her flaxen hair ; and her blue inno- 



PREFACE. ^YU 

cent eyes are fixed upon the ground. O thou 
good soul ! thou hast hard hands, but a soft 
heart ! Thou art poor. The very ornaments 
thou wearest are not thine. They have been 
hired for this great day. Yet art thou rich j 
rich in health, rich in hope, rich in thy first, 
young, fervent love. The blessing of heaven 
be upon thee ! So thinks the parish priest, as 
he joins together the hands of bride and bride- 
groom, saying in deep, solemn tones, — ''I 
give thee in marriage this damsel, to be thy 
wedded wife in all honor, and to share the 
half of thy bed, thy lock and key, and every 
third penny which you two may possess, or 
may inherit, and all the rights which Upland's 
laws provide, and the holy king Erik gave." 

The dinner is now served, and the bride 
sits between the bridegroom and the priest. 
The Spokesman delivers an oration after the 
2 c 



XVlll PREFACE. 

ancient custom of his fathers. He interlards 
it well with quotations from the Bible ; and 
invites the Saviour to be present at this mar- 
riage feast, as he was at the marriage feast in 
Cana of Galilee. The table is not sparingly- 
set forth. Each makes a long arm, and the 
feast goes cheerly on. Punch and brandy pass 
round between the courses, and here and there 
a pipe is smoked, while waiting for the next 
dish. They sit long at table ; but, as all 
things must have an end, so must a Swedish 
dinner. Then the dance begins. It is led 
off by the bride and the priest, who perform a 
solemn minuet together. Not till after mid- 
night comes the Last Dance. The girls form 
a ring around the bride, to keep her from the 
hands of the married women, who endeavour 
to break through the magic circle, and seize 
their new sister. After long struggling they 



PREFACE. XIX 

succeed ; and the crown is taken from her 
head and the jewels from her neck, and her 
boddice is unlaced and her kirtle taken off; 
and like a vestal virgin clad all in white she 
goes, but it is to her marriage chamber, not to 
her grave ; and the wedding guests follow 
her with lighted candles in their hands. And 
this is a village bridal. 

Nor must I forget the suddenly changing sea- 
sons of the Northern clime. There is no long 
and lingering sirring, unfolding leaf and blos- 
som one by one ; — no long and lingering au- 
tumn, pompous Avith many-colored leaves and 
the glow of Indian summers. But winter 
and summer are wonderful, and pass into each 
other. The quail has hardly ceased piping 
in the corn, when winter from the folds of 
trailing clouds sows broad-cast over the land 
snow, icicles, and rattling hail. Th6 days 



'sat PEEFACE. 

wane apace. Ere long the sun hardly rises 
above the horizon, or does not rise at all. 
The moon and the stars shine through the 
day ; only, at noon, they are pale and wan, 
and in the southern sky a red, fiery glow, as 
of sunset, burns along the horizon, and then 
goes out. And pleasantly under the silver 
moon, and under the silent, solemn stars, ring 
the steel-shoes of the skaters on the frozen 
sea, and voices, and the sound of bells. 

And now the Northern Lights begin to 
burn, faintly at first, like sunbeams playing 
in the waters of the blue sea. Then a soft 
crimson glow tinges the heavens. There is 
a blush on the cheek of night. The colors 
come and go ; and change from crimson to 
gold, from gold to crimson. The snow is 
stained with rosy light. Twofold from the 
zenith, east and west, flames a fiery sword; 



PREFACE. XXI 

and a broad band passes athwart the heav^ 
ens, like a summer sunset. Soft purple clouds 
come sailing over the sky, and through their 
vapory folds the winking stars shine white as 
silver. With such pomp as this is Merry 
Christmas ushered in, though only a single 
star heralded the first Christmas. And in 
memory of that day the Swedish peasants 
dance on straw ; and the peasant girls throw 
straws at the timbered roof of the hall, and 
for every one that sticks in a crack shall a 
groomsman come to their wedding. Merry 
Christmas indeed ! For pious souls there shall 
be church songs and sermons, but for Swe- 
dish peasants, brandy and nut brown ale in 
wooden bowls ; and the great Yulecake crown- 
^ with a cheese, and garlanded with apples, 
and. upholding a three-armed candlestick over 
the Christmas feast. They may tell tales, 



XXU PREFACE. 

toO; of Jons Limdsbracka, and Lunkenfus, and 
the great Riddar Finke of Pingsdaga.* 

And now the glad, leafy mid-summer, full 
of blossoms and the song of nightingales, is 
come ! Saint John has taken the flowers and 
festival of heathen Balder ; and in every vil- 
lage there is a May-pole fifty feet high, with 
wreaths and roses and ribands streaming in 
the wind, and a noisy weathercock on top. to 
tell the village v/hence the wind cometh and 
whither it goeth. The sun does not set till 
ten o'clock at night ; and the children are at 
play in the streets an hour later. The win- 
dows and doors are all open, and you may sit 
and read till midnight without a candle. O 
how beautiful is the summer night, which is 
not night, but a sunless yet unclouded day, 
descending upon earth with dews, and shad- 

• Titles of Swedish popular tales. 



PREFACE. XXlll 

ows, and refreshing coolness! How beauti- 
ful the long, mild twilight, which like a silver 
clasp unites to-day with yesterday ! How 
beautiful the silent hour, when Morning and 
Evening thus sit together, hand in hand, be- 
neath the starless sky of midnight ! From 
the church-tower in the public square the bell 
tolls the hour, with a soft, musical chime ; 
and the watchman, whose watch-tower is the 
belfry, blows a blast in his horn, for each 
stroke of the hammer, and four times, to the 
four corners of the heavens, in a sonorous voice 
he chaunts, — 

" Ho ! watchman, ho ! 
Twelve is the clock ! 
God keep our town 
From fire and brand 
And hostile hand ! 
Twelve is the clock ! " 

From his swallow's nest in the belfry he can 
see the sun all night long ; and farther north 



XXIV PREFACE. 

the priest stands at his door in the warm mid- 
night, and lights his pipe with a common 
burning glass. 

I trust that these remarks will not be deemed 
irrelevant to the poem, but will lead to a clear- 
er understanding of it. The translation is lit- 
eral, perhaps to a fault. In no instance have 
I done the author a wrong, by introducing 
into his work any supposed improvements or 
Embellishments of my own. I have preserved 
feVen the measure ; that inexorable hexameter, 
in which, it must be confessed, the motions 
of the English Muse are not unlike those of 
a prisoner dancing to the music of his chains ; 
and perhaps, as Dr. Johnson said of the dan- 
cing dog, " the wonder is not that she should 
do it so well, but that she should do it at all." 

Esaias Tegner, the author of this poem, was 
born in the parish of By in Wiirmland, in the 



PREFACE, XXV 

year 1782. In 1799 he entered the Univer- 
sity of Lund, as a student ; and in 1812 was 
appointed Professor of Greek in that institu- 
tion. In 1824 he became Bishop of Wexio, 
which office he still holds. He stands first 
among all the poets of Sweden, living or dead. 
His principal work is Frithiofs Saga ; one of 
the most remarkable poems of the age. This 
modern Scald has written his name in im- 
mortal runes. He is the glory and boast of 
Sweden ; a prophet, honored in his own coun- 
try, and adding one more to the list of great 
names, that adorn her history. 



BALLADS 



29 



THE SKELETON IN ARMOUR. 



[The following Ballad was suggested to me while riding 
on the seashore at Newport. A year or two previous a skel- 
eton had been dug up at Fall River, clad in broken and cor- 
roded armour; and the idea occurred to me of connecting it 
with the Round Tower at Newport, generally known hither- 
to as the Old Wind-Mill, though now claimed by the Danes 
as a work of their early ancestors. Professor Rafn, in the 
Mimoircs de la Societi Royale des Jlntiquaires du Nordy 
for 1838 -J 839^ says; 

" There is no mistaking in this instance the style in which 
the more ancient stone edifices of the North were construct- 
ed, the style which belongs to the Roman or Ante- Gothic 
architecture, and which, especially after the time of Charle- 
magne, diffused itself from Italy over the whole of the West 
and North of Europe, where it continued to predominate 



30 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

until the close of the 12th century; that style, which some 
authors have, from one of its most striking characteristics, 
called the round arch style, the same which in England is 
denominated Saxon and sometimes Norman architecture. 

" On the ancient structure in Newport there are no orna- 
ments remaining, which might possibly have served to guide 
us in assigning the probable date of its erection. That no 
vestige whatever is found of the pointed arch, nor any ap- 
proximation to it, is indicative of an earlier rather than of a 
later period. From such characteristics as remain, however, 
we can scarcely form any other inference than one, in which 
I am persuaded that all, who are familiar with Old-Northern 
architecture, will concur, that this building was erected 

AT A PERIOD DECIDEDLY NOT LATER THAN THE 12tH CEN- 

TURV. This remark applies, of course, to the original build- 
ing only, and not to the alterations that it subsequently re- 
ceived ; for there are several such alterations in the upper 
part of the building which cannot be mistaken, and which 
were most likely occasioned by its being adapted in modern 
times to various uses, for example as the substructure of a 
wind-mill, and latterly as a hay magazine. To the same 
times may be referred the windows, the fire-place, and the 
apertures made above the columns. That this building 



THE SKELETON IN ARMOUR. 31 

could not have been erected for a wind-mill, is what an archi- 
tect will easily discern." 

I will not enter into a discussion of the point. It is suffi- 
ciently well established for the purpose of a ballad ; though 
doubtless many an honest citizen of Newport, who has 
passed his days within sight of the Round Tower, will be 
ready to exclaim with Sancho; " God bless me ! did I not 
warn you to have a care of what you were doing, for that 
it was nothing but a wind-mill ; and nobody could mistake it, 
but one who had the like in his head."] 



" Speak ! speak ! thou fearful guest ! 
Who, with thy hollow breast 
Still in rude armour drest, 

Comest to daunt me ! 
Wrapt not in Eastern balms, 
But whh thy fieshless palms 
Stretched, as if asking alms. 

Why dost thou haunt me .^ " 



32 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

Then, from those cavernous eyes 
Pale flashes seemed to rise, 
As when the Northerji skies 

Gleam in December ; 
And, like the water's flow 
Under December's snow, 
Came a dull voice of woe 

From the heart's chamber. 



■ I was a Viking old ! 

My deeds, though manifold. 

No Skald in song has told, 

No Saga taught thee ! 
Take heed, that in thy verse 
Thou dost the tale rehearse, 
Else dread a dead man's curse ! 

For this I sought the^. 



THE SKELETON IN ARMOUR. 33 

" Far in the Northern Land, 
By the wild Baltic's strand, 
I, with my childish hand, 

Tamed the ger-falcon ; 
And, with my skates fast-bound, 
Skimmed the half-frozen Sound, 
That the poor whimpering hound 

Trembled to walk on. 



" Oft to his frozen lair 
Tracked I the grisly bear. 
While from my path the hare 

Fled like a shadow ; 
Oft through the forest dark 
Followed the were-wolf 's bark. 
Until the soaring lark 

Sang from the meadow. 



34 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

'' But when I older grew, 
Joining a corsair's crew, 
O'er the dark sea I flew 

With the marauders. 
Wild was the hfe we led ; 
Many the souls that sped. 
Many the hearts that bled, 

By our stern orders. 



^' Many a wassail-bout 
Wore the long Winter out ; 
Often our midnight shout 

Set the cocks crowing, 
As we the Berserk's tale 
Measured in cups of ale, 
Draining the oaken pail. 
Filled to o'erflowing. 



THE SKELETON IN ARMOUK. 35 

" Once as I told in glee 
Tales of the stormy sea, 
Soft eyes did gaze on me,. 

Burning yet tender ; 
And as the white stars shine 
On the dark Norway pine. 
On that dark heart of mine 

Fell their soft splendor. 



I wooed the blue-eyed maid, 
Yielding, yet half afraid, 
And in the forest's shade 

Our vows were plighted. 
Under its loosened vest 
Fluttered her little breast, 
Like birds within their nest 

By the hawk frighted.. 



36 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

" Bright in her father's hall 
Shields gleamed upon the wall, 
Loud sang the minstrels all, 

Chaunting his glory ; 
When of old Hildebrand 
I asked his daughter's hand, 
Mute did the minstrels stand 

To hear my story. 



While the brown ale he quaffed, 
Loud then the champion laughed. 
And as the wind-gusts waft 

The sea-foam brightly, 
So the loud laugh of scorn, 
Out of those hps unshorn. 
From the deep drinking-horn 

Blew the foam lightly. 



THE SKELETON IN ARMOUR. 37 

" She was a Prince's child, 
I but a Viking wild, 
And though she blushed and smiled, 

I was discarded ! 
Should not the dove so white 
Follow the sea-mew's flight. 
Why did they leave that night 

Her nest unguarded ? 



" Scarce had I put to sea. 
Bearing the maid with me, — - 
Fairest of all was she 

Among the Norsemen ! — 
When on the white sea-strand. 
Waving his armed hand, 
Saw we old Hildebrand, 
With twenty horsemen. 



38 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

" Then launched they to the blast, 
Bent like a reed each mast, 
Yet we were gaining fast. 

When the wind failed us ; 
And with a sudden flaw 
Came round the gusty Skaw, 
So that our foe we saw 

Laugh as he hailed us. 



" And as to catch the gale 

Round veered the flapping sail, 
Death ! was the helmsman's hail. 

Death without quarter ! 
Mid-ships with iron keel 
Struck we her ribs of steel ; 
Down her black hulk did reel 
Through the black water ! 



THE SKELETON IN ARMOUR. 39 

" As with his wings aslant, 
Sails the fierce cormorant, 
Seeking some rocky haunt. 

With his prey laden. 
So toward the open main. 
Beating to sea again, 
Through the wild hurricane, 
Bore I the maiden. 



■' Three weeks we westward bore. 
And when the storm was o'er. 
Cloud-like we saw the shore 

Stretching to lea-ward ; 
There for my lady's bower 
Built I the lofty tower. 
Which, to this very hour. 

Stands looking sea-ward. 



40 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

" There lived we many years ; 
Time dried the maiden's tears ; 
She had forgot her fears, 
She was a mother ; 
Death closed her mild blue eyes. 
Under that tower she lies ; 
Ne'er shall the sun arise 
On such another ! 



" Still grew my bosom then, 
Still as a stagnant fen ! 
Hateful to me were men. 

The sun-light hateful ! 
In the vast forest here, 
Clad in my warlike gear. 
Fell I upon my spear, 

O, death was grateful ! 



THE SKELETON IN ARMOUR. 41 

" Thus, seamed with many scars 
Bursting these prison bars, 
Up to its native stars 

My soul ascended ! 
There from the flowing bowl 
Deep drinks the warrior's soul, 
Skoal ! to the Northland ! skoal / " * 

— Thus the tale ended. 



* In Scandanavia this is the customary salutation when 
drinking a health. I have slightly changed the orthography 
of the word, in order to preserve the correct pronunciation. 



42 



THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS. 



It was the schooner Hesperus, 

That sailed the wintry sea ; 
And the skipper had taken his httle daughter. 

To bear him company. 

Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax, 
Her cheeks like the dawn of day, 

And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds, 
That ope in the month of May. 



THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS, 43 

The skipper he stood beside the helm. 

With his pipe in his mouth, 
And watched how the veering flaw did blow 

The smoke now West, now South. 

Then up and spake an old Sailor, 
Had sailed the Spanish Main, 
" I pray thee, put into yonder port. 
For 1 fear a hurricane. 

" Last night, the moon had a golden ring. 
And to-night no moon we see ! " 
The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe. 
And a scornful laugh laughed he. 

Colder and louder blew the wind, 

A gale from the Northeast ; 
The snow fell hissing in the brine. 

And the billows frothed like yeast. 



44 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

Down came the storm, and smote amain, 

The vessel in its strength ; 
She shuddered and paused, hke a frighted steed, 

Then leaped her cable's length. 

" Come hither ! come hither ! my little daughter, 
And do not tremble so ; 
For I can weather the roughest gale, 
That ever wind did blow." 

He wrapped her w^arm in his seaman's coat 

Against the stinging blast ; 
He cut a rope from a broken spar. 

And bound her to the mast. 

*' O father ! I hear the church-bells ring, 

O say, what may it be ? " 
"'T is a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast ! " — 

And he steered for the open sea. 



THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS. 45 

" O father ! I hear the sound of guns, 

O say, what may it be ? " 
" Some ship in distress, that cannot live 

In such an angry sea ! " 

" O father ! I see a gleaming light, 
O say, what may it be ? " 
But the father answered never a word, 
A frozen corpse was he. 

Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark, 

With his face to the skies. 
The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow 

On his fixed and glassy eyes. 

Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed 

That saved she might be ; 
And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave. 

On the Lake of Galilee. 



46 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

And fast through the midnight dark and drear, 
Through the whistHng sleet and snow, 

Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept 

Towards the reef of Norman's Woe. 

And ever the fitful gusts between 
A sound came from the land ; 

It was the sound of the trampling surf, 
On the rocks and the hard sea-sand. 

The breakers were right beneath her bows, 

She drifted a dreary wreck. 
And a whooping billow swept the crew 

Like icicles from her deck. 

She struck where the white and fleecy waves 

Looked soft as carded wool. 
But the cruel rocks, they gored her side 

Like the horns of an angry bull. 



THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS. 47 

Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed m ice, 
With the masts went by the board ; 

Like a vessel of glass, she strove and sank, 
Ho ! ho ! the breakers roared ! 

At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach, 

A fisherman stood aghast, 
To see the form of a maiden fair. 

Lashed close to a drifting mast. 

The salt sea was frozen on her breast. 

The salt tears in her eyes ; 
And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed, 

On the billows fall and rise. 

Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, 

In the midnight and the snow ! 
Christ save us all from a death like this, 

On the reef of Norman's Woe ! 



48 



THE LUCK OF EDENHALL. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND. 

[The tradition, upon which this ballad is founded, and the 
" shards of the Luck of Edenhall," still exist in England. 
The goblet is in the possession of Sir Christopher Musgrave, 
Bart., of Eden Hall, Cumberland j and is not so entirely shat- 
tered, as the ballad leaves it. ] 



Op Edenhall, the youthful Lord 
Bids sound the festal trumpet's call ; 
He rises at the banquet board, 
And cries, 'mid the drunken revellers all, 
" Now bring me the Luck of Edenhall ! '* 



THE LUCK OF EDENHALL. 49 

The butler hears the words with pain, 
The house's oldest seneschal, 
Takes slow from its silken cloth again 
The drinking glass of crystal tall ; 
They call it The Luck of Edenhall. 



Then said the Lord ; " This glass to praise. 

Fill with red wine from Portugal ! " 

The gray-beard with trembling hand obeys ; 

A purple light shines over all, 

It beams from the Luck of Edenhall. 



Then speaks the Lord, and waves it light, 
'^ This glass of flashing crystal tall 

Gave to my sires the Fountain- Sprite ; 
She WTOte in it ; // this glass cloth fall 
Farewell then^ O Luck of Edenhall ! 

4 6 



50 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

" 'T was right a goblet the Fate should be 
Of the joyous race of Edenhall ! 
Deep draughts drink we right willingly ; 
And wiUingly ring, with merry call, 
Kling ! klang ! to the Luck of Edenhall ! " 



First rings it deep, and full, and mild, 
Like to the song of a nightingale ; 
Then like the roar of a torrent wild ; 
Then mutters at last like the thunder's fall, 
The glorious Luck of Edenhall. 



'' For its keeper takes a race of might. 
The fragile goblet of crystal tall ; 
It has lasted longer than is right ; 
Kling ! klang ! — with a harder blow than all 
Will I try the Luck of Edenhall ! " 



THE LUCK OF EDENHALL. 51 

As the goblet ringing flies apart, 
Suddenly cracks the vaulted hall ; 
And through the rift, the wild flames start ; 
The guests in dust are scattered all. 
With the breaking Luck of Edenhall ! 



In storms the foe, with fire and sword ; 
He in the night had scaled the wall, 
Slain by the sword hes the youthful Lord, 
But holds in his hand the crystal tall, 
The shattered Luck of Edenhall. 



On the morrow the butler gropes alone, 
The gray-beard in the desert hall. 
He seeks his Lord's burnt skeleton, 
He seeks in the dismal ruin's fall 
The shards of the Luck of Edenhall. 



52 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

" The stone wall," saith he, "doth fall aside, 
Down must the stately columns fall ; 
Glass is this earth's Luck and Pride ; 
In atoms shall fall this earthly ball 
One day like the Luck of Edenhall ! " 



53 



THE ELECTED KNIGHT. 

FROM THE DANISH. 

[ The following strange and somewhat mystical ballad is 
from Nyerup and Rahbek's Danske Viser of the Middle 
Ages. It seems to refer to the first preaching of Christianity 
in the North, and to the institution of Knight-Errantry. 
The three maidens I suppose to be Faith, Hope, and Charity. 
The irregularities of the original have been carefully pre- 
served in the translation.] 



Sir Oluf he rideth over the plain, 

Full seven miles broad and seven miles wide, 
But never, ah never can meet with the man 

A tilt with him dare ride. 



54 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

He saw under the hill-side 

A Knight full well equipped ; 
His steed was black, his helm was barred ; 

He was riding at full speed. 

He wore upon his spurs 

Twelve little golden birds ; 
Anon he spurred his steed with a clang, 

And there sat all the birds and sang. 

He wore upon his mail 

Twelve little golden wheels ; 
Anon in eddies the wild wind blew, 

And round and round the wheels they flew. 

He wore before his breast 

A lance that was poised in rest ; 

And it was sharper than diamond-stone, 
It made Sir Oluf 's heart to groan. 



THE ELECTED KNIGHT. 65 

He wore upon his helm, 

A wreath of ruddy gold ; 
And that gave him the Maidens Three, 

The youngest was fair to behold. 

Sir Oluf questioned the Knight eftsooii 
If he were come from heaven down ; 
" Art thou Christ of Heaven," quoth he, 
" So will I yield me unto thee." 

" I am not Christ the Great, 

Thou shalt not yield thee yet ; 
I am an Unknown Knight, 

Three modest Maidens have me bedight." 

"• Art thou a Knight elected. 

And have three Maidens thee bedight ; 
So shalt thou ride a tilt this day, 
For all the Maidens' honor ! " 



BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

The first tilt they together rode 
They put their steeds to the test ; 

The second tilt they together rode. 
They proved their manhood best. 

The third tilt they together rode, 
Neither of them would yield ; 

The fourth tilt they together rode. 
They both fell on the field. 

Now lie the lords upon the plain, 
And their blood runs unto death ; 

Now sit the Maidens in the high tower, 
The youngest sorrows till death. 



THE 



CHILDREN 



THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



FROM THE SWEDISH OF BISHOP TEGNER. 



59 



THE 



CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



Pentecost, day of rejoicing, had come. The 
church of the village 

Stood gleaming white in the morning's sheen. 
On the spire of the belfry. 

Tipped with a vane of metal, the friendly flames 
of the Spring-sun 

Glanced like the tongues of fire, beheld by Apos- 
tles aforetime. 



60 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

Clear was the heaven and blue, and May, with 

her cap crowned whh roses, 
Stood in her hohday dress in the fields, and the 

wind and the brooklet 
Murmured gladness and peace, God's-peace ! 

With lips rosy-tinted 
Whispered the race of the flowers, and merry 

on balancing branches 
Birds were singing their carol, a jubilant hymn to 

the Highest. 
Swept and clean was the churchyard. Adorned 

like a leaf- woven arbour 
Stood its old-fashioned gate ; and within upon 

each cross of iron 
Hung was a sweet-scented garland, new twined 

by the hands of affection. 
Even the dial, that stood on a fountain among the 

departed, 
(There full a hundred years had it stood,) w^as 

embellished with blossoms. 



THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER, 61 

Like to the patriarch hoary, the sage of his kith 

and the hamlet, 
Who on his birth-day is crowned by children and 

children's children, 
So stood the ancient prophet, and mute with his 

pencil of iron 
Marked on the tablet of stone, and measured the 

swift-changing moment. 
While all around at his feet, an eternity slumber- 
ed in quiet. 
Also the church within was adorned, for this was 

the season 
In which the young, their parents' hope, and the 

loved-ones of heaven. 
Should at the foot of the altar renew the vows 

of their baptism. 
Therefore each nook and corner was swept and 

cleaned, and the dust was 
Blown from the walls and ceiling, and from the 

oil-painted benches. 



62 BALLADS AND OTHEE POEMS. 

There stood the church hke a garden ; the Feast 
of the Leafy Pavihons * 

Saw we in hving presentment. From noble arms 
on the church wall 

Grew forth a cluster of leaves, and the preach- 
er's pulpit of oak-wood 

Budded once more anew, as aforetime the rod 
before Aaron. 

Wreathed thereon was the Bible with leaves, and 
the dove, washed with silver. 

Under its canopy fastened, a necklace had on of 
wind-flowers. 

But in front of the choir, round the altar-piece 
painted by Horberg,f 

Crept a garland gigantic ; and bright-curhng tress- 
es of angels 

* The Feast of the Tabernacles; in Swedish, Lofhyddo- 
hOgtiden, the Leaf-huts'-high-tide. 

t The peasant-painter of Sweden. He is known chiefly 
by his altar-pieces in the village churches. 



THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 63 

Peeped, like the sun from a cloud, out of the 

shadowy leaf-work. 
Likewise the lustre of brass, new-polished, blinked 

from the ceiling, 
And for lights there were lilies of Pentecost set 

in the sockets. 



Loud rang the bells already ; the thronging 

crowd was assembled 
Far from valleys and hills, to list to the holy 

preaching. 
Hark ! then roll forth at once the mighty tones 

from the organ, 
Hover like voices from God, aloft like invisible 

spirits. 
Like as Ehas in heaven, when he cast off from 

him his mantle, 
Even so cast off the soul its garments of earth ; 

and with one voice 



64 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

Chimed in the congregation, and sang an anthem 

immortal 
Of the subhme WaUin,* of David's harp in the 

North-land 
Tuned to the choral of Luther ; the song on its 

powerful pinions 
Took every hving soul, and lifted it gently to 

heaven, 
And every face did shine like the Holy One's 

face upon Tabor. 
Lo ! there entered then into the church the Rev- 
erend Teacher. 
Father he hight and he was in the parish ; a 

christianly plainness 
Clothed from his head to his feet the old man of 

seventy winters. 

* A distinguished pulpit-orator and poet. He is particu- 
larly remarkable for the beauty and sublimity of his psalms. 



THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. ()5 

Friendly was he to behold, and glad as the herald- 
ing angel 

Walked he among the crowds, but still a contem- 
plative grandeur 

Lay on his forehead as clear, as on moss-covered 
grave-stone a sun-beam. 

As in his inspiration (an evening twilight that 
faintly 

Gleams in the human soul, even now, from the 
day of creation) 

Th' Artist, the friend of heaven, imagines Saint 
John when in Patmos ; — 

Gray, with his eyes uplifted to heaven, so seemed 
then the old man ; 

Such was the glance of his eye, and such were 
his tresses of silver. 

All the congregation arose in the pews that were 
numbered. 

But with a cordial look, to the right and the left 

hand, the old man 

5 I 



66 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

Nodding all hail and peace, disappeared in the 
innermost chancel. 



Simply and solemnly now proceeded the Chris- 
tian service. 

Singing and prayer, and at last an ardent dis- 
course from the old man. 

Many a moving word and warning, that out of 
the heart came 

Fell like the dew of the morning, like manna on 
those in the desert. 

Afterwards, when all was finished, the Teacher 
reentered the chancel. 

Followed therein by the young. On the right 
hand the boys had their places, 

Delicate figures, with close-curhng hair and 
cheeks rosy-blooming. 

But on the left-hand of these, there stood the 
tremulous lilies, 



THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. G7 

Tinged with the blushing light of the morning, 

the diffident maidens, — 
Folding their hands in prayer, and their eyes cast 

down on the pavement. 
Now came, with question and answer, the cate- 
chism. In the beginning 
Answered the children with troubled and faher- 

ing voice, but the old man's 
Glances of kindness encouraged them soon, and 

the doctrines eternal 
Flowed, like the waters of fountains, so clear 

from lips unpolluted. 
Whene'er the answer was closed, and as oft as 

they named the Redeemer, 
Lowly louted the boys, and lowly the maidens all 

courtesied. 
Friendly the Teacher stood, like an angel of hght 

there among them. 
And to the children explained he the holy, the 

highest, in few v/ords, 



68 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

Thorough, yet simple and clear, for sublimity 
always is simple, 

Both in sermon and song, a child can seize on 
its meaning. 

Even as the green-growing bud is unfolded when 
Spring-tide approaches 

Leaf by leaf is developed, and, warmed by the 
radiant sunshine. 

Blushes with purple and gold, till at last the per- 
fected blossom 

Opens its odorous chalice, and rocks with its 
crown in the breezes. 

So was unfolded here the Christian lore of sal- 
vation, 

Line by line from the soul of childhood. The 
fathers and mothers 

Stood behind them in tears, and were glad at 
each well-worded answer. 



THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 69 

Now went the old man up to the altar ; — and 
straightway transfigured 

(So did it seem unto me) was then the affection- 
ate Teacher. 

Like the Lord's Prophet sublime, and awful as 
Death and as Judgment 

Stood he, the God-commissioned, the soul- 
searcher, earthward descending. 

Glances, sharp as a sword, into hearts, that to 
him were transparent 

Shot he ; his voice was deep, was low like the 
thunder afar off. 

So on a sudden transfigured he stood there, he 
spake and he questioned. 



''This is the faith of the Fathers, the faith the 
Apostles delivered. 
This is moreover the faith whereunto I baptized 
you, while still ye 



70 BALLADS. AND OTHER POEMS. 

Lay on your mothers' breasts, and nearer the 

portals of heaven. 
Slumbering received you then the Holy Church 

in its bosom ; 
Wakened from sleep are ye now, and the light in 

its radiant splendor 
Bains from the heaven downward ; — to-day on 

the threshold of childhood 
Kindly she frees you again, to examine and make 

your election. 
For she knows nought of compulsion, only con- 
viction desireth. 
This is the hour of your trial, the turning-point 

of existence, 
Seed for the coming days ; without revocation 

departeth 
Now from your lips the confession ; Bethink ye, 

before ye make answer ! 
Think not, O think not with guile to deceive the 

questioning Teacher. 



THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 71 

Sharp is his eye to-day, and a curse ever rests 

upon falsehood. 
Enter not with a lie on Life's journey ; the mul- 
titude hears you. 
Brothers and sisters and parents, what dear upon 

earth is and holy 
Standeth before your sight as a witness ; the 

Judge everlasting 
Looks from the sun down upon you, and angels 

in waiting beside him 
Grave your confession in letters of fire, upon 

tablets eternal. 
Thus then, — believe ye in God, in the Father 

who this world created ? 
Him who redeemed it, the Son, and the Spirit 

where both are united ? 
Will ye promise me here, (a holy promise !) to 

cherish 
God more than all things earthly, and every man 

as a brother ? 



72 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

Will ye promise me here, to confirm your faith 
by your living, 

Th' heavenly faith of affection ! to hope, to for- 
give, and to suffer. 

Be what it may your condition, and walk before 
God in uprightness ? 

Will ye promise me this before God and man ? " 
— With a clear voice 

Answered the young men Yes ! and Yes ! with 
lips softly-breathing 

Answered the maidens eke. Then dissolved from 
the brow of the Teacher 

Clouds with the thunders therein, and he spake 
on in accents more gentle. 

Soft as the evening's breath, as harps by Baby- 
lon's rivers. 



''Hail, then, hail to you all! To the heir- 
dom of heaven be ye welcome ! 



THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 73 

t 

Children no more from this day, but by covenant 

brothers and sisters ! 
Yet, — for what reason not children? Of such 

is the kingdom of heaven. 
Here upon earth an assemblage of children, in 

heaven one father, 
Ruling them as his own household, — forgiving 

in turn and chastising. 
That is of human life a picture, as Scripture has 

taught us. 
Blessed are the pure before God ! Upon purity 

and upon virtue 
Resteth the Christian Faith ; she herself from on 

high is descended. •' 

Strong as a man and pure as a child, is the sum 

of the doctrine. 
Which the Godlike delivered, and on the cross 

suffered and died for. 
O ! as ye wander this day from childhood's sa- 
cred asylum 



74 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

Downward and ever downward, and deeper in 

Age's chill valley, 
O ! how soon will ye come, — too soon ! — and 

long to turn backward 
Up to its hill-tops again, to the sun-illumined, 

where Judgment 
Stood like a father before you, and Pardon, clad 

like a mother, 
Gave you her hand to kiss, and the loving heart 

was forgiven, 
Life was a play and your hands grasped after tlie 

roses of heaven ! 
Seventy years have I lived already ; the father 

eternal 
Gave to me gladness and care ; but the loveliest 

hours of existence. 
When I have steadfastly gazed in their eyes, I 

have instantly known them, 
Known them all, all again ; — they were my 

childhood's acquaintance. 



THE CHILDREN OF TPIE LORD'S SUPPER. 75 

Therefore take from henceforth, as guides in the 
paths of existence, 

Prayer, with her eyes raised to heaven, and In- 
nocence, bride of man's childhood. 

Innocence, child beloved, is a guest from the 
world of the blessed. 

Beautiful, and in her hand a hly ; on life's roar- 
ing billows 

Swings she in safety, she heedeth them not, in 
the ship she is sleeping. 

Calmly she gazes around in the turmoil of men ; 
in the desert 

Angels descend and minister unto her ; she her- 
self knoweth 

Naught of her glorious attendance ; but follows 
faithful and humble. 

Follows so long as she may her friend ; O do 
not reject her. 

For she cometh from God and she holdeth the 
keys of the heavens. — 



76 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

Prayer is Innocence' friend ; and willingly flyeth 
incessant 

'Twixt the earth and the sky, the carrier-pigeon 
of heaven. 

Son of Eternity, fettered in Time, and an exile, 
the Spirit 

Tugs at his chains evermore, and struggles like 
flames ever upward. 

Still he recalls with emotion his father's manifold 
mansions, 

Thinks of the land of his fathers, where blos- 
somed more freshly the flowers, 

Shone a more beautiful sun, and he played with 
the winged angels. 

Then grows the earth too narrow, too close ; and 
homesick for heaven 

Longs the wanderer again ; and the Spirit's long- 
ings are worship ; 

Worship is called his most beautiful hour, and its 
tongue is entreaty. 



THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 77 

Ah ! when the infinite burden of life descendeth 
upon us, 

Crushes to earth our hope, and, under the earth, 
in the grave-yard, — 

Then it is good to pray unto God ; for his sor- 
rowing children 

Turns he ne'er from his door, but he heals and 
helps and consoles them. 

Yet is it better to pray when all things are pros- 
perous with us, 

Pray in fortunate days, for life's most beautiful 
Fortune 

Kneels down before the Eternal's throne ; and, 
with hands interfolded. 

Praises thankful and moved the only giver of 
blessings. 

Or do ye know, ye children, one blessing that 
comes not from Heaven ? 

What has mankind forsooth, the poor ! that it has 
not received ? 



78 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

Therefore, fall in the dust and pray ! The ser- 
aphs adoring 
Cover with pinions six their face in the glory of 

him who 
Hung his masonry pendant on naught, when the 

world he created. 
Earth declareth his might, and the firmament ut- 

tereth his glory. 
Races blossom and die, and stars fall downward 

from heaven. 
Downward like withered leaves ; at the last 

stroke of midnight, millenniums 
Lay themselves down at his feet, and he sees 

them, but counts them as nothing. 
Who shall stand in his presence ? The wrath 

of the judge is terrific, 
Casting the insolent down at a glance. When he 

speaks in his anger 
Hillocks skip like the kid, and mountains leap 

like the roe-buck. 



THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 79 

Yet, — why are ye afraid, ye children? This 

awful avenger, 
Ah ! is a merciful God ! God's voice was not in 

the earthquake 
Not in the fire, nor the storm, but it w^as in the 

whispering breezes. 
Love is the root of creation ; God's essence ; 

worlds without number 
Lie in his bosom like children ; he made them 

for this purpose only. 
Only to love and to be loved again, he breathed 

forth his spirit 
L)to the slumbering dust, and upright standing, it 

laid its 
Hand on its heart, and felt it w^as warm with a 

flame out of heaven. 
Quench, O quench not that flame ! It is the 

breath of your being. 
Love is life, but hatred is death. Not father, nor 

mother 



80 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

Loved you, as God has loved you ; for 't was 

that you may be happy 
Gave he his only son. When he bowed down 

his head in the death-hour 
Solemnized Love its triumph ; the sacrifice then 

was completed. 
Lo ! then was rent on a sudden the vail of the 

temple, dividing 
Earth and heaven apart, and the dead from their 

sepulchres rising 
"Whispered with pallid lips and low in the ears of 

each other 
Th' answer, but dreamed of before, to creation's 

enigma, — Atonement ! 
Depths of Love are Atonement's depths, for Love 

is Atonement. 
Therefore, child of mortality, love thou the mer- 
ciful Father ; 
Wish what the Holy One wishes, and not from 

fear, but affection ; 



THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 81 

Fear is the virtue of slaves ; but the heart that 

loveth is wiUing ; 
Perfect was before God, and perfect is Love, 

and Love only. 
Lovest thou God as thou oughtest, then lovest 

thou Hkewise thy brethren ; 
One is the sun in heaven, and one, only one, is 

Love also. 
Bears not each human figure the godlike stamp on 

his forehead ? 
Readest thou not in his face thine origin ? Is he 

not sailing 
Lost like thyself on an ocean unknown, and is 

he not guided 
By the same stars that guide thee ? Why shouldst 

thou hate then thy brother ? 
Hateth he thee, forgive ! For 't is sweet to stam- 
mer one letter 
Of the Eternal's language ; — on earth it is called 

Forgiveness ! 

6 K 



82 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

Knowest thou Him, who forgave, with the crown 

of thorns round his temples ? 
Earnestly prayed for his foes, for his murderers ? 

Say, dost thou know him ? 
Ah ! thou confesses! his name, so follow likewise 

his example. 
Think of thy brother no ill, but throw a veil over 

his failings, 
Guide the erring aright ; for the good, the heav- 
enly shepherd 
Took the lost lamb in his arms, and bore it back 

to its mother. 
.This is the fruit of Love, and it is by its fruits that 

we know it. — 
Love is the creature's welfare, with God ; but 

Love among mortals 
Is but an endless sigh ! He longs, and endures, 

and stands waiting. 
Suffers and yet rejoices, and smiles with tears on 

his eyelids. 



THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 83 

Hope, — SO is called upon earth, his recompense. 

— Hope, the befriending. 
Does what she can, for she points evermore up 

to heaven, and faithful 
Plunges her anchor's peak in the depths of the 

grave, and beneath it 
Paints a more beautiful world, a dim, but a sweet 

play of shadows ! 
Races, better than we, have leaned on her waver- 
ing promise, 
Having naught else beside Hope. Then praise 

w^e our Father in heaven, 
Him, who has given us more ; for to us has Hope 

been illumined. 
Groping no longer in night ; she is Faith, she is 

living assurance. 
Faith is enlightened Hope ; she is light, is the eye 

of affection, 
Dreams of the longing interprets, and carves 

their visions in marble. 



84 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

Faith is the sun of hfe ; and her countenance 

shines hke the Prophet's, 
For she has looked upon God ; the heaven on 

its stable foundation 
Draws she with chains down to earth, and the 

New Jerusalem sinketh 
Splendid with portals twelve in golden vapors 

descending. 
There enraptured she wanders, and looks at the 

figures majestic, 
Fears not the winged crowd, in the midst of them 

all is her homestead. 
Therefore love and believe ; for works will follow 

spontaneous 
Even as day does the sun ; the Right from the 

Good is an offspring, 
Love in a bodily shape ; and Christian works are 

no more than 
Animate Love and faith, as flowers are the ani- 
mate spring-tide. 



THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 85 

Works do follow us all unto God ; there stand 

and bear witness 
Not what they seemed, — but what they were 

only. Blessed is he who 
Hears their confession secure ; they are mute 

upon earth until death's hand 
Opens the mouth of the silent. Ye children, 

does Death e'er alarm you ? 
Death is the brother of Love, twin-brother is he, 

and is only 
More austere to behold. With a kiss upon hps 

that are fading 
Takes he the soul and departs, and rocked in 

the arms of affection, 
Places the ransomed child, new born, 'fore the 

face of its father. 
Sounds of his coming already I hear, — see dim- 
ly his pinions. 
Swart as the night, but with stars strewn upon 

them ! I fear not before him. 



86 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

Death is only release, and in mercy is mute. 

On his bosom 
Freer breathes, in its coolness, my breast ; and 

face to face standing 
Look I on God as he is, a sun unpolluted by 

vapors ; 
Look on the light of the ages I loved, the spirits 

majestic. 
Nobler, better than I ; they stand by the throne 

all transfigured. 
Vested in white, and with harps of gold, and are 

singing an anthem. 
Writ in the climate of heaven, in the language 

spoken by angels. 
You, in like manner, ye children beloved, he one 

day shall gather, 
Never forgets he the weary ; — then welcome, ye 

loved ones, hereafter ! 
Meanwhile forget not the keeping of vows, forget 

not the promise, 



THE CHILDREN OP THE LORD'S SUPPER. 87 

Wander from holiness onward to holiness ; earth 

shall ye heed not ; 
Earth is but dust and heaven is light; I have 

pledged you to heaven. 
God of the Universe, hear me ! thou fountain of 

Love everlasting, 
Hark to the voice of thy servant ! I send up my 

prayer to thy heaven ! 
Let me hereafter not miss at thy throne one spirit 

of all these. 
Whom thou hast given me here ! I have loved 

them all like a father. 
May they bear witness for me, that I taught them 

the way of salvation, 
Faithful, so far as I knew of thy word ; again 

may they know me. 
Fall on their Teacher's breast, and before thy 

face may I place them. 
Pure as they now are, but only more tried, and 

exclaiming with gladness, 



88 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

Father, lo ! I am here, and the children, whom 
thou hast given me ! " 



Weeping he spake in these words ; and now at 

the beck of the old man 
Knee against knee they knitted a wreath round 

the altar's enclosure. 
Kneeling he read then the prayers of the conse- 
cration, and softly 
With him the children read ; at the close, with 

tremulous accents, 
Asked he the peace of heaven, a benediction 

upon them. 
Now should have ended his task for the day ; the 

following Sunday 
Was for the young appointed to eat of the Lord's 

holy Supper. 
Sudden, as struck from the clouds, stood the 

Teacher silent and laid his 



THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 89 

Hand on his forehead, and cast his looks upward ; 
while thoughts high and holy 

Flew through the midst of his soul, and his eyes 
glanced with wonderful brightness. 

''On the next Sunday, who knows ! perhaps I 
shall rest in the grave-yard ! 

Some one perhaps of yourselves, a hly broken 
untimely. 

Bow down his head to the earth ; why delay I ? 
the hour is accomphshed. 

Warm is the heart ; — I will so ! for to-day grows 
the harvest of heaven. 

What I began accomplish I now ; for what fail- 
ing therein is 

I, the old man, will answer to God and the rev- 
erend father. 

Say to me only, ye children, ye denizens new- 
come in heaven. 

Are ye ready this day to eat of the bread of 
Atonement } 



90 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

What it denote ill, that know ye full well, I have 
told it you often. 

Of the new covenant a symbol it is, of Atonement 
a token, 

Stablished between earth and heaven. Man by 
his sins and transgressions 

Far has w^andered from God, from his essence. 
'T was in the beginning 

Fast by the Tree of Knowledge he fell, and it 
hangs its crown o'er the 

Fall to this day ; in the Thought is the Fall ; in 
the Heart the Atonement. 

Infinite is the Fall, the Atonement infinite like- 
wise. 

See ! behind me, as far as the old man remem- 
bers, and forward, 

Far as Hope in her flight can reach with her 
wearied pinions. 

Sin and Atonement incessant go through the life- 
time of mortals. 



THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 91 

Brought forth is sin full-grown ; but Atonement 

sleeps in our bosoms 
Still as the cradled babe ; and dreams of heaven 

and of angels, 
Cannot awake to sensation ; is hke the tones in 

the harp's-strings, 
Spirits imprisoned, that wait evermore the deliv- 
erer's finger. 
Therefore, ye children beloved, descended the 

Prince of Atonement, 
Woke the slumberer from sleep, and she stands 

now with eyes all resplendent. 
Bright as the vault of the sky, and battles with 

Sin and o'ercomes her. 
Downward to earth he came and transfigured, 

thence reascended, 
Not from the heart in like wise, for there he still 

lives in the Spirit, 
Loves and atones evermore. So long as Time 

is, is Atonement. 



92 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

Therefore with reverence receive this day her 
visible token. 

Tokens are dead if the things do not Uve. The 
hght everlasting 

Unto the bhnd man is not, but is born of the eye 
that has vision. 

Neither in bread nor in v^^ine, but in the heart 
that is hallowed 

Lieth forgiveness enshrined ; the intention alone 
of amendment 

Fruits of the earth ennobles to heavenly things, 
and removes all 

Sin and the guerdon of sin. Only Love with 
his arms wide extended, 

Penitence weeping and praying ; the Will that is 
tried, and whose gold flows 

Purified forth from the flames ; in a word, man- 
kind by Atonement 

Breaketh Atonement's bread, and drinketh Atone- 
ment's wine-cup. 



THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 93 

But he who Cometh up hither, unworthy, with 

hate in his bosom, 
Scoffing at men and at God, is guiky of Christ's 

blessed body. 
And the Redeemer's blood ! To himself he 

eateth and drinketh 
Death and doom ! And from this, preserve us, 

thou heavenly Father! 
Are ye ready, ye children, to eat of the bread 

of Atonement ? " 
Thus with emotion he asked, and together an- 
swered the children 
Yes ! with deep sobs interrupted. Then read 

he the due supplications. 
Read the Form of Communion, and in chimed 

the organ and anthem ; 
O ! Holy Lamb of God, who takest away our 

transgressions. 
Hear us ! give us thy peace ! have mercy, have 

mercy upon us ! 



94 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

Th' old man, with trembling hand, and heavenly 

pearls on his eyehds, 
Filled now the chalice and paten, and dealt round 

the mystical symbols. 
O ! then seemed it to me, as if God, with the 

broad eye of mid-day. 
Clearer looked in at the windows, and all the 

trees in the churchyard 
Bowed down their summits of green, and the 

grass on the graves 'gan to shiver. 
But in the children, (I noted it well ; I knew it) 

there ran a 
Tremor of holy rapture along through their icy- 
cold members. 
Decked like an altar before them, there stood 

the green earth, and above it 
Opened the heaven, as once before Stephen of 

old ; — they beheld there 
Radiant in glory the Father, and on his right 

hand the Redeemer. 



THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 95 

Under ihem hear they the clang of harpstrings, 

and angels from gold clouds 
Beckon to them like brothers, and fan with their 

pinions of pm'ple. 



Closed was the Teacher's task, and with heav- 
en in their hearts and their faces, 

Up rose the children all, and each bowed him, 
weeping full sorely, 

Downward to kiss that reverend hand, but all of 
them pressed he 

Moved to his bosom, and laid, with a prayer, 
his hands full of blessings. 

Now on the holy breast, and now on the inno- 
cent tresses. 



MISCELLANEOUS. 



99 



THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH. 



Under a spreading chestnut tree 
The village smithy stands ; 

The smith, a mighty man is he, 
With large and sinewy hands ; 

And the muscles of his brawny arms 
Are strong as iron bands. 



100 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

His hair is crisp, and black, and long, 

His face is like the tan ; 
His brow is wet with honest sweat, 

He earns whate'er he can. 
And looks the whole world in the face, 

For he owes not any man. 

Week in, week out, from morn till night. 
You can hear his bellows blow ; 

You can hear him swing his heavy sledge. 
With measured beat and slow, 

Like a sexton ringing the village bell. 
When the evening sun is low. 

And children coming home from school 

Look in at the open door ; 
They love to see the flaming forge. 

And hear the bellows roar. 
And catch the burning sparks that fly 

Like chaff from a threshing floor.' 



THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH. 101 

He goes on Sunday to the church, 

And sits among his boys ; 
He hears the parson pray and preach, 

He hears his daughter's voice. 
Singing in the village choir. 

And it makes his heart rejoice. 

It sounds to him like her mother's voice, 

Singing in Paradise ! 
He needs must think of her once more. 

How in the grave she lies ; 
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes 

A tear out of his eyes. 

Toiling, — rejoicing, — sorrowing. 
Onward through life he goes ; 

Each morning sees some task begin. 
Each evening sees it close ; 

Something attempted, something done. 
Has earned a night's repose. 



102 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, 
For the lesson thou hast taught ! 

Thus at the flaming forge of hfe 
Our fortunes must be wrought ; 

Thus on its sounding anvil shaped 
Each burning deed and thought ! 



103 



ENDYMION. 



The rising moon has hid the stars ; 

Her level rays, hke golden bars. 
Lie on the landscape green. 
With shadows brown between. 

And silver white the river gleams. 
As if Diana, in her dreams. 
Had dropt her silver bow 
Upon the meadows low. 



104 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

On such a tranquil night as this, 
She woke Endymion with a kiss, 
When, sleeping in the grove. 
He dreamed not of her love. 

Like Dian's kiss, unasked, unsought, 
Love gives itself, but is not bought ; 
Nor voice, nor sound betrays 
Its deep, impassioned gaze. 

It comes, — the beautiful, the free. 
The crown of all humanity, — 
In silence and alone 
To seek the elected one. 

It lifts the boughs, whose shadows deep. 
Are Life's oblivion, the soul's sleep, 
And kisses the closed eyes 
Of him, who slumbering lies. 



ENDYMION. 105 

O, weary hearts ! O, slumbering eyes ! 
O, drooping souls, whose destinies 

Are fraught with fear and pain, 

Ye shall be loved again ! 

No one is so accursed by fate. 
No one so utterly desolate. 

But some heart, though unknown. 

Responds unto his own. 

Responds, — as if with unseen wings, 
A breath from heaven had touched its strings; 
And whispers, in its song, 
"Where hast thou stayed so long ! " 



106 



THE TWO LOCKS OF HAIR. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF PFIZER. 

A YOUTH, light-hearted and content, 
I wander through the world ; 

Here, Arab-like, is pitched my tent 
And straight again is furled. 

Yet oft I dream, that once a wife 
Close in my heart was locked, , 

And in the sweet repose of life 
A blessed child I rocked. 



TWO LOCKS OF HAIR. 107 

I wake ! Away that dream, — away ! 

Too long did it remain ! 
So long, that both by night and day 

It ever comes again. 

The end lies ever in my thought ; 

To a grave so cold and deep 
The mother beautiful was brought ; 

Then dropt the child asleep. 

But now the dream is wholly o'er, 

I bathe mine eyes and see ; 
And wander through the world once more, 

A youth so light and free. 

Two locks, — and they are wondrous fair, — • 

Left me that vision mild ; 
The brown is from the mother's hair. 

The blond is from the child. 



108 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

And when I see that lock of gold, 
Pale grows the evening-red ; 

And when the dark lock I behold, 
I wish that I were dead. 



109 



IT IS NOT ALWAYS MAY. 

NO HAY PAJAROS EN LOS NIDOS DB ANTANO. 

Spanish Proverb. 

The sun is bright, — the air is clear, 
The darting swallows soar and sing, 

And from the stately elms I hear 
The blue-bird prophesying Spring. 

So blue yon winding river flows, 
It seems an outlet from the sky, 

Where waiting till the west wind blows, 
The freighted clouds at anchor lie. 



110 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

All things are new ; — the buds, the leaves, 
That gild the elm-tree's nodding crest, 

And even the nest beneath the eaves ; — 
There are no birds in last year's nest ! 

All things rejoice in youth and love, 
The fulness of their first delight ! 

And learn from the soft heavens above 
The melting tenderness of night. 

Maiden, that read'st this simple rhyme. 
Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay ; 

Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime, 
For O ! it is not always May ! 

Enjoy the Spring of Love and Youth, 
To some good angel leave the rest ; 

For Time will teach thee soon the truth. 
There are no birds in last year's nest ! 



Ill 



THE RAINY DAY. 



The day is cold, and dark, and dreary ; 
It rains, and the wind is never weary ; 
Tlie vine still clings to the mouldering wall. 
But at every gust the dead leaves fall, 
And the day is dark and dreary. 

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary ; 
It rains, and the wind is never weary ; 
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past, 
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast 
And the days are dark and dreary. 



112 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

Be Still, sad heart ! and cease repining ; 
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining ; 
Thy fate is the common fate of all, 
Into each life some rain must fall, 

Some days must be dark and dreary. 



113 



GOD'S-ACRE. 



I LIKE that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls 
The burial-ground God's- Acre ! It is just ; 

It consecrates each grave within its walls, 

And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust. 

God's- Acre ! Yes, that blessed name imparts 
Comfort to those, who in the grave have sown 

The seed, that they had garnered in their hearts. 
Their bread of hfe, alas ! no more their own. 



114 BALLADS AND OTHER rOEMS. 

Into its furrows shall we all be cast, 

In the sure faith, that we shall rise again 

At the great harvest, when the arch-angel's blast 
Shall winnow, like a fan, the chaff and grain. 

Then shall the good stand in immortal bloom, 
In the fair gardens of that second birth ; 

And each bright blossom, mingle its perfume 
With that of flowers, which never bloomed on 
earth. 

"With thy rude ploughshare, Death, turn up the sod, 
x\nd spread the furrow for the seed we sow ; 

This is the field and Acre of our God. 

This is the place, where human harvests grow ! 



115 



TO THE RIVEE CHARLES. 



River ! that in silence windest 

Through the meadows, bright and free, 

Till at length thy rest thou findest 
In the bosom of the sea ! 

Four long years of mingled feeling. 
Half in rest, and half in strife, 

I have seen thy waters stealing 
Onward, like the stream of life. 



116 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

Thou has taught me, Silent River ! 

Many a lesson, deep and long ; 
Thou hast been a generous giver ; 

I can give thee but a song. 

Oft in sadness and in illness, 

I have watched thy current glide, 

Till the beauty of its stillness 
Overflowed me, like a tide. 

And in better hours and brighter, 
When I saw thy waters gleam, 

I have felt my heart beat lighter, 
And leap onward with thy stream. 

Not for this alone I love thee. 
Nor because, thy waves of blue 

From celestial seas above thee 
Take their own celestial hue. 



TO THE RIVER CHARLES. 117 

Where yon shadowy woodlands hide thee, 

And thy waters disappear, 
Friends I love have dwelt beside thee, 

And have made thy margin dear. 

More than this ; — thy name reminds me 
Of three friends, all true and tried ; 

And that name, like magic, binds me 
Closer, closer to thy side. 

Friends my soul with joy remembers ! 

How like quivering flames they start. 
When I fan the living embers 

On the hearth-stone of my heart ! 

'T is for this, thou Silent River ! 

That my spirit leans to thee ; 
Thou hast been a generous giver, 

Take tliis idle song from me. 



118 



BLIND BARTIMEUS. 



Blind Bartimeus at the gates 

Of Jericho in darkness waits ; 

He hears the crowd ; — he hears a breath 

Say, "It is Christ of Nazareth !" 

And calls, in tones of agony. 



BLIND BARTIMEUS. HQ 

The thronging multitudes increase ; 
Bhnd Bartimeus, hold thy peace ! 
But still, above the noisy crowd, 
The beggar's cry is shrill and loud ; 
Until they say, " He calleth thee ! " 
OdgdeL^ ayeigai, cpavu ca ! 

Then saith the Christ, as silent stands 
The crowd, " What wilt thou at my hands ? " 
And he replies, " O give me hght ! 
Rabbi, restore the blind man's sight ! " 
And Jesus answers, "Tnays • 
' H TtiOTis aov aiaoxs as ! 

Ye that have eyes, yet cannot see, 

In darkness and In misery. 

Recall those mighty Voices Three, 

'L^oov, tXiriaov (.is ! 

Odgaei, eysigaL, vna/e ! 

' H Tttaiis oov aiaaxi as! 



120 



THE GOBLET OF LIFE. 



Filled is Life's goblet to the brim ; 
And though my eyes with tears are dim, 
I see its sparkling bubbles swim, 
And chaunt a melancholy hymn 
With solemn voice and slow. 

No purple flowers, — no garlands green, 
Conceal the goblet's shade or sheen, 
Nor maddening draughts of Hippocrene, 
Like gleams of sunshine, flash between 
Thick leaves of misletoe. 



THE GOBLET OF LIFE. 121 

This goblet, wrought with curious art, 
Is filled with waters, that upstart. 
When the deep fountains of the heart. 
By strong convulsions rent apart, 
Are running all to waste. 



And as it mantling passes round, 
With fennel is it wreathed and crowned. 
Whose seed and foliage sun-imbrowned 
Are in its waters steeped and drowned, 
And give a bitter taste. 



Above the lowly plants it towers. 
The fennel, with its yellow flowers, 
And in an earlier age than ours 
Was gifted with the wondrous powers. 
Lost vision to restore. 



122 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

It gave new strength, and fearless mood ; 
And gladiators, fierce and rude. 
Mingled it in their daily food ; 
And he who battled and subdued, 
A wreath of fennel wore. 



Then in Life's goblet freely press, 
The leaves that give it bitterness, 
Nor prize the colored w^aters less, 
For in thy darkness and distress 

New light and strength they give ! 



And he who has not learned to know 
How false its sparkling bubbles show. 
How bitter are the drops of w^oe. 
With which its brim may overflow, 
He has not learned to live. 



THE GOBLET OF LIFE. 123 

The prayer of Ajax was for light ; 
Through all that dark and desperate fight, 
The blackness of that noonday night, 
He asked but the return of sight, 
To see his foeman's face. 



Let our unceasing, earnest prayer 
Be, too, for light, — for strength to bear 
Our portion of the weight of care. 
That crushes into dumb despair 
One half the human race. 



O suffering, sad humanity ! 
O ye afflicted ones, who he 
Steeped to the lips in misery, 
Longing, and yet afraid to die. 
Patient, though sorely tried ! 



124 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

I pledge you in this cup of grief, 
Where floats the fennel's bitter leaf ! 
The Battle of our Life is brief, 
The alarm, — the struggle, — the relief, 
Then sleep we side by side. 



125 



MAIDENHOOD. 



Maiden ! with the meek, brown eyes, 
In whose orbs a shadow hes 
Like the dusk in evening skies ! 

Thou whose locks outshine the sun, 
Golden tresses, wreathed in one, 
As the braided streamlets run ! 

Standing, with reluctant feet, 
Where the brook and river meet. 
Womanhood and childhood fleet ! 



126 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

Gazing, with a timid glance, 
On the brooklet's swift advance. 
On the river's broad expanse ! 

Deep and still, that gliding stream 
Beautiful to thee must seem, 
As the river of a dream. 

Then why pause with indecision. 
When bright angels in thy vision 
Beckon thee to fields Elysian .'' 

Seest thou shadows sailing by, 
As the dove, with startled eye, 
Sees the falcon's shadow fly .'' 

Hearest thou voices on the shore, 
That our ears perceive no more, 
• Deafened by the cataract's roar ? 



MAIDENHOOD. 127 

O, thou child of many prayers ! 

Life hath quicksands, — Life hath snares ! 

Care and age come unawares ! 

Like the swell of some sweet tune, 
Morning rises into noon, 
May glides onward into June. 

Childhood is the bough, where slumbered 
Birds and blossoms many -numbered ; — 
Age, that bough with snows encumbered. 

Gather, then, each flower that grows. 
When the young heart overflows. 
To embalm that tent of snows. 

Bear a lily in thy hand ; 

Gates of brass cannot withstand 

One touch of that magic wand. 



128 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

Bear through sorrow, wrong, and ruth, 
In thy heart the dew of youth, 
On thy hps the smile of truth. 

O, that dew, hke balm, shall steal 
Into wounds, that cannot heal. 
Even as sleep our eyes doth seal ; 

And that smile, like sunshine, dart 
Into many a sunless heart. 
For a smile of God thou art. 



129 



EXCELSIOR. 



The shades of night were falling fast, 
As through an Alpine village passed 
A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice, 
A bannei* with the strange device 
Excelsior ! 

His brow was sad ; his eye beneath, 
Flashed like a faulchion from its sheath. 
And like a silver clarion rung 
The accents of that unknown tongue, 
Excelsior ! 



130 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

In happy homes he saw the light 
Of household fires gleam warm and bright ; 
Above, the spectral glaciers shone, 
And from his lips escaped a groan, 
Excelsior ! 



" Try not the Pass ! " the old man said ; 

" Dark lowers the tempest overhead. 
The roaring torrent is deep and wide ' " 
And loud that clarion voice replied 
Excelsior ! 



" O stay," the maiden said, " and rest 
Thy weary head upon this breast ! " 
A tear stood in his bright blue eye. 
But still he answered, with a sigh. 
Excelsior ! 



EXCELSIOR. 131 

" Beware the pine-tree's withered branch ! 
Beware the awful avalanche ! " 
This was the peasant's last Good-night, 
A voice replied, far up the height, 
Excelsior ! 



At break of day, as heavenward 
The pious monks of Saint Bernard 
Uttered the oft-repeated prayer, 
A voice cried through the startled air 
Excelsior ! 



A traveller, by the faithful hound. 
Half-buried in the snow was found, 
Still grasping in his hand of ice 
That banner with the strange device 
Excelsior ! 



132 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 

There in the twilight cold and gray, 
Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay, 
And from the sky, serene and far, 
A voice fell, like a fallhig star, 
Excelsior ! 



END. 






LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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